


Dweeb

by summoninglupine



Category: Juice Juice (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Coffee Shops, Gen, Graduation, Idols
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoninglupine/pseuds/summoninglupine
Summary: The smell of cinnamon and gingerbread was rich in the air, the scent warm and reassuring. At last, she caught sight of the other girl, her attention focused intently on her phone—and that t-shirt, Tomoko thought, after all these years, she was wearing that t-shirt again.
Kudos: 2





	Dweeb

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Juandalyn](http://www.hello-online.org/index.php?/user/190548-juandalyn) as part of [Hello!Online Secret Santa 2020](http://www.hello-online.org/index.php?/topic/26637-helloonline-secret-santa-2020/).

The smell of cinnamon and gingerbread was rich in the air, the scent warm and reassuring. Above her head, the bell rang softly, a call of greeting from the barista behind the counter. She nodded, sheepish still, awkward in such situations, her eyes scanning the busy crowd, until at last, she caught sight of the other girl, her coat across the back of the chair at the table at which she sat, and her attention focused intently on her phone—and that t-shirt, Tomoko thought, after all these years, she was wearing that t-shirt again.

She smiled warmly, loosening her scarf, unbuttoning her jacket, and taking a step forward. If there was any justice in the world, she thought, then there would have been no way that Miyamoto Karin might have gotten away with wearing a t-shirt from seven years ago, a t-shirt from when she was an actual child, and still look so adult, so sophisticated. 

Wait, she asked herself, approaching the table, was this the magic of graduation? Was this what happened when you became a solo artist? Fear gripped her. What if she never became this sophisticated, what if she never grew up?

Sensing her approach, Karin looked up, hastily rising from her chair and waving happily. For a moment or two, they tried to work out whether it was okay to hug, tried to navigate the rules of such things now that they no longer spent so much time together, but eventually, the feeling of familiarity was too much, and Tomoko found herself throwing her arms around the younger girl, and trying not to cry once more as all the emotion from her recent graduation welled up once more.

The recollection of that night, the deafening claps of the audience filling the shape of the Budokan, and Karin’s radiant smile, her breathless excitement, and tearful awkwardness was still so fresh in Tomoko’s mind that she could almost convince herself that it had not happened. _Almost_.

“I missed you,” Karin said quietly.

Tomoko laughed with embarrassment, the two of them parting and taking up seats either side of the table.

“It’s only been a week,” she said, removing her mask.

The other girl pouted slightly.

“I know,” she offered, “and I know nothing has really changed, but it just feels weird, you know?”

Yes, Tomoko thought, she knew exactly how that felt.

“Is that why you’re feeling nostalgic?” she asked.

“Nostalgic?” Karin echoed.

Tomoko nodded at the t-shirt, and Karin looked down, as if she had forgotten what she was wearing.

“Oh, this? It was the first thing I found.”

“Of course.”

She blushed.

“Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe, I’m not ready to let go.”

Tomoko shook her head.

“Karin, shush, this is going to be great. Nothing has changed between us all, we’re still here, we’re still your friends, but right now, you need to go forward, you need to do your best under your own steam.” She smiled softly. “You need to be as great as we all know you are.”

The younger girl looked away.

“Don’t,” she said with a smile.

“Take the damn compliment,” Tomoko insisted, with a mock frown, and then laughed. “Besides, it’s going to be easier without you, anyhow.”

Swiftly, Karin turned her head to look back.

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

Tomoko smiled playfully.

“Well, Karin was a big focus for a while. It’ll be easier for old ladies like me to get attention without you around.”

The younger girl laughed.

“You’re not an old lady.”

“I feel like one sometimes,” Tomoko said with a sigh.

They had been together for so long, she thought with sudden sadness, and in that time Juice=Juice had been their sole focus, the sole extent of their world, and now, here was Karin, out on her own without them. 

Outside, the decorations of the city caught the glow of lights, illuminating them with such warmth, radiant greens and boisterous reds. What would the new year be like without Karin, she asked herself, who would they become in her absence? She realised abruptly that a song was filtering through the store, a familiar song.

Her eyes met those of the other girl’s and they both smiled.

“Is this…?”

Karin nodded.

“Petitmoni,” she laughed.

In that moment, Tomoko suddenly realised that she was part of something so much bigger, that wherever she went, there would always be the reminder of Karin, of all the girls that had gone before them, and that they would always have this special bond between. The realisation felt syrupy sweet and overly sentimental, and the grown-up part of her brain wanted to chastise her for such silliness, but it didn’t matter, because right now, she realised that this was what she needed to believe in.

Hastily, she removed her jacket, throwing it back over the chair, trying not to look like she was about to cry.

“I’m, ah, going to get some tea, do you want anything?”

“A cookie,” Karin answered without hesitation. “Cinnamon, please!”

“Of course,” Tomoko said, reaching for her purse and pushing the chair back.

And what, she thought could be more suitable? Smiling, she stood up, slipped her mask back on, and took place in the queue at the counter.


End file.
